Oath of Sacrifice Anniversary Word Prompts
by SolemnSerpent
Summary: So, on my dA I accepted word prompts for mini-ficlets of 500 words or less about the world of Oath of Sacrifice (my L4D fanfiction) because I'll be celebrating the one-year anniversary of my very first fanfiction. I'll also accept word prompts (and sentence prompts) in my ask box here on tumblr. Feel free! Here's the first of the word prompts!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is the first of the word prompts (and a sentence prompt). Feel free to submit a prompt to me here via PM, but only up to two. I also accept a sentence prompt as well. I will only accept these up until April 24th (the anniversary day!) and then I won't accept any more. Hope you guys are excited for the celebration of the first year of OOS!**

**~x~**

**Tuna**

The Duchess never enjoyed tuna. The older woman eyed the innocent sandwich lying on the almost shockingly clean plate before her. It shouldn't have surprised her after a day, but it still did. She was shockingly clean as well, courtesy of a scalding hot shower the base provided. The Duchess had forgotten hot water showers, after months of freezing cold ones at #666. She was clean, the plate was clean, the food wasn't cold slop from a can, but still she didn't eat. The Duchess wasn't a fan of tuna, not after spending a few nights in a hospital.

She could hear Michelle eating her own sandwich next to her, just about a foot or two away. That woman was never picky.

All the other survivors from the Duchess' band were strewn about the small, pristine cafeteria with its gleaming chrome tables and padded chairs. Everyone was relaxing, all of them. Garry and Whitman were chatting amiably with each other, probably swapping amusing stories from their expressions. Michelle was sitting next to her, digging into her own tuna sandwich.

Alice was staring dreamily at the entire room, her plate already empty. Mark, the college boy, was toying with his tangled hair, washed clean by the shower. The Duchess mentally noted to lend him her knife later to cut his hair. She already knew that the married couple Steven and Clair had already retired to their bedroom for the night. Alex was being looked over by the scientists already, poor boy, and Lily was with him. Everyone was settling into the new base, with its power and food supplies and everything. Speaking of food…

The Duchess' stomach growled loudly, enough that Michelle glanced over towards her. The younger woman raised one eyebrow, cocking her head to the side curiously. "Why aren't you eating, Duchess?" She asked, and the Duchess shrugged.

"I despite tuna. Never mentioned it before, since we've just been eating instant-meals and soup from a can, but now that I can afford to be picky…" She trailed off, uncertain of what to say. She felt guilty.

"But why won't you eat tuna, Duchess? I've seen you gulp down stuff everyone else wouldn't touch. But why tuna?" Michelle asked, her voice light and teasing. The younger redhead slid closer, almost conspiratorially, like the two of them were teenage girls gossiping over lunch.

The Duchess laughed. "When I was younger, when I was off-duty from the army, I was out drinking with a few of my comrades. We had completed a rigorous training regimen, and we were young. It was only natural we would get drunk. I was wasted by the end of it, when my friends bet me I couldn't eat a couple cans of tuna-flavored cat food. The wet cat food, of course."

"Oh, you didn't-" Michelle laughed, and the Duchess grinned.

"Oh yes, I did. Went to the hospital an hour later with excessive food poisoning. Alcohol and cat food don't mix! And then I've never eaten tuna after that!" The Duchess smirked, and the two of them laughed.

* * *

**Shame**

"Can you breathe in and out slowly for me?" The scientist questioned, positioning her stethoscope over my back. I did as she asked, breathing in and out slowly until she removed the scope. I was sitting on the examination table, the weird paper cover crumpling and crackling underneath me. I was wearing only my shorts (and boxers underneath). I was nervous. This was a far cry from being strapped down to a table and so heavily sedated that I couldn't do anything while scientists talked about me like I wasn't there and experimented.

No, this was different, but I was still on edge. Lily was waiting outside of the room (Dr. Hensley didn't want her in the room for the medical examination), and she had told me that if something bad happened she would be inside the room ten seconds flat. She was armed, and I felt safer knowing she was there. But still, I felt ashamed. The woman was too curious in my opinion. She kept looking me over, taking in the yellow-gray skin, the yellow eyes, the pus filled bumps and bulges jutting out all over, especially on my hands. I was ashamed of my hands, of how disgusting they looked. The claws and the rashes and the bulges presented a monstrous picture, and when Lily had wanted to hold hands I turned her down.

"Open your mouth, please." The scientist quipped, and I obeyed, pulling back my lips to reveal a maw full of sharp teeth. She slid in one of those tongue presser-things (I couldn't remember the name) and flashed a light in my mouth, gazing at my throat and tongue. I let her do this physical exam, holding out my arm obediently when she wanted to take my blood pressure.

Later on I knew the scientists would want samples of my blood, skin, hair, and probably urine, but right now they were happy with this small exam. This wasn't too bad, as long as that woman never went near the scalpels stored in that clear glass cupboard on the other side of the room, and there would be no restraints.

I was pretty sure the Duchess talked with the scientists before she permitted me to be examined; detailing what I had went through before at base #666. I never wanted a repeat of that, especially not with memories of _her. _

Dr. Hensley seemed a nice person, and she kept moving carefully and slowly, making sure I could see her movements at all times. I appreciated it, but it felt like I was a dangerous animal, someone to be cautious around at all times. A wild animal that could strike out at any time, if threatened. Dr. Hensley approached me now with a thermometer, and I opened my mouth. We sat there in silence waiting for the thermometer to work, but it was a comfortable silence.

Once that was done, Dr. Hensley popped the thermometer out of my mouth, recorded the temperature, and then she patted me on the back and told me I could leave. I felt ashamed then, ashamed I had not trusted her. I put my shirt back on and quietly left the room.

* * *

**Megastore**

The Costco was too much of a temptation to ignore. Our group was running out of supplies, and everything else in the small town had been looted completely. The most we'd found was one bottle of Tylenol, hidden under the cashier. The only thing left was the hulking, massive megastore, heavily barricaded. It appeared no one had breached the barricade of the twisted bodies of cars and metal screens and shopping carts. The Duchess had me scope the place out, and it had not been breached. However, there was one skylight on the roof of the Costco, and it was our hope.

I set up a ladder to get everyone on top, and we all slipped down into the dark, dark building. All the lights were off, and our only illumination was our flashlights and the lone skylight. There were giant shadowy shapes all around (I could see what they were, giant shelves and other storage boxes piled high as the eye could see), ominous and foreboding, but other than our breathing, I couldn't hear any sounds.

The entire store was silent as the grave. The Duchess took one footstep, and it echoed loudly through the dead silent warehouse. A few of the survivors jumped at the echo, and their noise reverberated off of the walls. I couldn't smell anything besides dust and cardboard and rotting meat- the power was off, which meant any meat or perishables would have gone bad by now. Hopefully there would be canned goods left.

The Duchess paired us off, each with a flashlight, although I didn't need one to see everything. We split up quickly and moved away from each other, flashlights flicking around in the dark. The Duchess and I ended up by the canned goods, and we were overwhelmed with awe. Before us as row upon row upon row of canned goods, with everything from powdered milk to canned chicken stock to tomato sauce, all lined up neatly with labels and prices.

I started loading up what I could while the Duchess signaled the rest of the group (waving flashlight wildly and shouting 'OVER HERE' worked wonders), and everyone started loading up.

Even after our frantic raiding, there was still tons and tons of supplies, enough to feed our small group of ten for _months. _Perhaps megastores weren't so bad.

* * *

**Sentence Prompt: ****"It lasted maybe two seconds but it felt like forever."**

The Duchess was angry. Dr. Artemis had signaled an alert; Lily's brother, the infected Hunter, had escaped from the laboratory and fled into the survivor camp. She had just spent about an hour searching among the tents and belongs of the people who lived here, and among the fields as well. The guards on the walls hadn't reported seeing a Hunter on the walls, or near the walls, but they had been facing outside of the walls, not inside.

Their duty was to guard from an outside threat, not an inside one. But now the Duchess' clothes were caked with soil and sweat, and she was not in a happy mood. The scientists had shouted at her after organizing a fruitless search. She had been assigned a tent, and she would be sharing it with Lily, who had probably returned from her trip inside the lab facility.

"Lily, I'm bac-" The Duchess began, and then raised her shotgun up at the sight inside. Lily was sitting by the bed, which was occupied by a boy in his teens, with wild, tangled black hair. There was a ratty, bloody blue hoodie on the ground beside the bed, but what drew the Duchess' attention was the boy's skin. It was a sickly yellow-gray, and she could see the rashes of the infection and the pus-filled bulges all over him. Its hands, tipped with razor sharp claws, were resting lightly on the blanket covering him. It was her brother, the Hunter.

"Lily, what are you doing?!" The Duchess shouted, raising her shotgun and advancing. The Hunter stirred at her words, but its eyes remained thankfully closed, and it twitched a little in its sleep, its mouth opening slightly to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth, perfect for biting and tearing. Any second now, it would wake up and realize that there were two readily available food sources, ready to be torn apart and devoured.

But now Lily rose up from her chair beside the bed, and she darted in front of the shotgun, her arms spread wide. The Duchess lowered the barrel of her shotgun somewhat, her expression murderous.

"Lily!" She hissed, her tone harsh, "What the hell do you think you're doing? That's not your brother anymore! Any minute now that thing will wake up!"

But Lily shook her head, her eyes filled with stubborn tears, her arms still spread wide.

"He came in here Duchess, he came in here and he didn't notice me. Instead, he was looking of the picture I have of him on the table over there. He was so engrossed in the photo; he didn't notice me sneaking up on him. Alex is still in there, I swear!" She sobbed, and the tears ran down her grimy cheeks now. The Duchess swore, unsure what to do. She couldn't fire, not with Lily in the way, and the girl would never let her shove past and take care of the Hunter in the bed.

And then the Hunter groaned, its eyes fluttering open for a moment. Its eyes were a sickly yellow, their pupils dilated. The Duchess caught its gaze, and she froze, unsure of what to do. It lasted maybe two seconds but it felt like forever, looking into those infected irises. Those weren't the eyes of a killer zombie that she saw. The Duchess had seen killer eyes when fighting the Hunters, or any ravenous infected. No, those weren't the eyes of a killer, but instead they were the eyes of a frightened child, a boy thrust into a world of no return. Slowly, slowly, the Duchess lowered the shotgun. Lily was still sobbing, her arms spread wide as she defended her brother.

"Please, please… Don't take him away from me again…" She whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Duchess kneeled besides her, letting the shotgun fall to the dirt floor in favor of grasping Lily in a tight hug. For a minute or two they sat there, the small girl sobbing into the older woman's shoulder in the dying sunlight of the tent.

"I won't shoot him. Not yet at least. But if he makes one false move, takes one step out of line, or attacks someone, I won't hesitate, and if he goes too far, I don't want you to hesitate either, understand?" The Duchess said harshly, gripping Lily by the shoulders and looking straight into her clear blue eyes.

"Thank you, thank you…" She gasped, and nodded her head in understanding. The Duchess released her and picked up the shotgun, standing awkwardly. She didn't know how to handle children. Hardened soldiers, maybe, but not children.

"Don't make me regret my decision." She said gruffly, and turned away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's the next batch of word prompts! Enjoy!**

**~x~**

**Comb**

My brother's hair was getting messy and tangled again. I couldn't blame him for not properly taking care of it, as we had more important matters to attend during this apocalypse. Survival was more important, and Alex was our scout. What had been a risk in taking him along with the rest of our group soon turned out to be an unexpected... benefit, I suppose.

Alex proved to be an apt scout and scavenger, with his infected status and reflexes. The other zombies just ignored him, and he could scope out the lay of the land from vantage points that humans couldn't reach without help. Hell, he was practically our savior, and he had come through time and time again, but that didn't stop my heart from clenching every time he vanished ahead of us.

Nothing could describe the vice around my lungs and heart whenever I didn't know where my brother was, or if he was in trouble. It was painful, being forced to wait for him to come back. Back before the infection, I had depended on him then, but that was when everything was safer; no infection, no zombies climbing over dead corpses trying to claw your throat out, no fellow survivors ambushing you on the highways or in deserted towns, snatching up your weapons and ammunition and supplies and leaving you with nothing but the clothing on your back, bait to deal with any infected.

I've heard that some of those 'bandits', for lack of a better term, actually had the guts to pull the trigger and waste a bullet putting their victims out of their misery. Others would strip their victims down to the nude and run them through infested areas, to watch the hapless innocents try to fist fight zombies. The world out there was cruel, all right, and perhaps even crueler than it was before the Green Flu wiped out most of the United States.

Which was why my brother was such a godsend. He could sniff out the survivors, and he always found where they were hiding, whether we were on the car-riddled labyrinths of highways or deep within the national forests. He even managed to locate two bandits hiding on the roof of a Subway store we were planning to raid, in the dead of night and with strong winds. It's almost frightening, how easily he can find people. He has never gotten lost getting back to us (at least, from what I can tell- he never tries to communicate through anything besides giant letters written on sheets paper by a shaking and cramped hand).

Are all Hunters like this? Hell, are _all _Special Infected this capable of tracking down a living, breathing human being?

Comb in hand, I approached my brother. He was sitting cross-legged in his favorite (and his only) outfit on one of the couches in the back of the base's lounge, contently munching away at a bag full of beef jerky sitting next to him on one of the cushions. He looked up as I approached, comb in hand, and I waved. I plopped down on the cushions next to him, and motioned for Alex to turn around. However, instead of nodding and letting me comb out his hair, Alex instead reached for my own braid. My hair was also tangled, knotted, and pretty gross. He took the comb out of my hand and removed the hair tie keeping the braid together. I let him do it, and when he gently guided me into a better position on the couch, I followed. He was careful with the comb, tugging at the knots and tangles in my hair. It was so nice; I closed my eyes and let it happen.

* * *

**GOLDFISH**

When Dr. Hensley burst into the waiting room with a bowl of goldfish crackers, I had no idea how to react. She wasn't wearing her lab coat, which was a new sight for me. Whenever she wanted to test something or examine me, she always wore her light brown hair tied up in an cinched bun (it looks painful). But now her hair was down, and it reached almost to her shoulders. Her flat brown eyes glittered mischievously, and behind her most of the other base staff and scientists were in tow, each carrying bowls of food or trays of drinks. Larry, the most popular of the staff (he was the janitor who could teach sailors a thing or two about swearing and colorful stories) was towing a mini cooler.

"MOVIE NIGHT!" shouted Dr. Hensley cheerfully, and I stared at her, mouth slightly open. Movie night? In all honestly, I was expecting a Tank and a few dozen infected to break in at that moment. I hadn't had a movie night in… years! The thought of a movie night in the middle of the apocalypse was absurd, as absurd as a festival in the middle of a funeral procession. I glanced around from my comfortable position on one of the padded waiting room chairs. Most of the other survivors possessed the same dumbstruck look on their faces, but as I looked, Lily started to grin like a loon and she bounded to her feet.

"What movie is it?" She asked eagerly, running forward to help one of the staff that was struggling with beverages. Dr. Hensley laughed, no, she _giggled_ like a girl half her age and revealed- I couldn't believe it- the entire series of _Star Wars_ movies. Everyone except me (for obvious reasons) let out a cheer at the sight of those DVD cases, and broke out into grins. It was one of the perks of having a very small base running on hydroelectric power that was meant to power a base three times its size- that spare electricity could be used for something else besides the essentials. We'd all had showers to prove that.

Dr. Hensley led everyone to the employee lounge, with its giant comfy couches and tables, and there we all saw that while we had been waiting in the living room, someone had set up a giant flat screen HD TV- I hadn't seen one of those without smashed glass in weeks- and arranged all the furniture so that everything faced the large screen. There were also more beverages, from beer to wine to soda, and lots of junk food. Nothing healthy was there, which was probably why it was okay to have this much food out at once.

All of us hesitated on the cusp of entering this glorious set-up, until Lily plopped down on one of the couches and everyone else followed while Dr. Hensley started popping the DVD in. I ended up next to Lily with the giant bowl of goldfish in my lap, and another bowl of microwave-warmed chicken strips and bacon right next to me. I could eat the goldfish, if only a little at a time, and well mixed with the meat. My body didn't seem to like anything that wasn't meet. Everyone cheered again as the opening credits to _Star Wars: The Phantom Menace_ started to roll up the screen, and I grinned at Lily. This was peaceful. This was happy. This was… _fun._

* * *

**Poison**

Wind howled outside of the small motel, and the view outside small, grimy windows were obscured by the bare, black oak branches scratching against the glass. Their leaves had long been stripped away by the harsh fall and the start of winter. I was huddled inside, wrapped up in a ton of threadbare blankets, surrounded by the other nine humans. The wind drove the infected into a frenzy, and despite this hick town's small size, there were too many infected for comfort to fight in such terrible conditions.

I had found this place, with its razor wire fence and only a few infected, who had been easily dispatched with the Duchess' crowbar and Michelle's fire axe. And now here we all were, huddling against each other in blankets for warmth (and it was quite nicely warm in here) and talking quietly amongst each other. Everyone appeared nervous to speak in anything above a whisper, even though no infected would be able to hear us above the roaring wind outside.

Alice had found a radio that still worked in the 'lobby' of the motel, and she was fiddling with it now, testing different channels and frequencies. No one had tried to stop her, not even the Duchess, who had voiced her opinion early on that the only likely radios still working were military radios, which had hidden frequencies and codes and whatnot.

Most of the channels were static, but others functioned, either playing the same songs on loop or airing the same repeated CEDA bullshit: evacuation was on the way, barricade your homes, don't contact infected persons, maintain healthy state of body and mind… Everyone was glad when Alice changed channels.

After about an hour of quietly fiddling with dials and channels, Alice looked ready to give up on finding anything useful or at least entertaining, and everyone else just wanted her to turn it off because the sound of static was becoming increasingly annoying.

"Attention! We have food and shelter and water available for anyone in need! We are looking to outlast this goddamn apocalypse, by God's will! We are calling for all and any survivors in the nearby area to come to this location-"

"Turn it off!" The Duchess hissed, interrupting the radio's broadcast, and Alice looked at the older woman once before obeying.

"There's no 'group of survivors' like that out there right now- resources are scarce, and many won't risk having more mouths to feed than possible. This is most likely a trap, these people, so desperate for some sucker to come by and spring it. Their words are goddamn **poison.**" The Duchess spat on the ground.

We sat the rest of the time in near-silence. No one tried to touch the radio.


End file.
